If she'd taken my doubleshot on ice, I would have shanked her.

There are a number of things about Starbucks I really love:

-The Venti Iced Americano
-Knowing that where ever I am, there is one nearby should I need the aforementioned beverage.

There are also a number of things about Starbucks I do not really love:
-That the company name does not include an apostrophe. Starbucks is the first mate in Moby-Dick, as such, he is a single entity. Granted, there are multiple iterations of Starbucks but it would be like calling a coffee shop "Jones". It really requires possession.
-Sometimes baristas fuck things up irreperably. I ordered an iced coffee one day and what I received tasted like old oranges. It was, however, affective in keeping me awake. I cannot be sleepy with evil in my mouth.
-people who populate Starbuckses. Actually people who populate coffee shops in general. I walked into the Saxby's outside Mason on afternoon earlier this year and saw a guy busily typing away on his MacBook in a shirt that read "GMU MFA Student". I suddenly and violentely regretted every afternoon I spent at the Coffee Mill trying to crank out a draft for Fiction Writing.

But that is not the kind of coffee shop patron that necessitated that post. In D.C., everyone is v. busy and important...or would like to give that impression to the rest of the known universe. I got in line and ordered my usual Iced Venti unsweetened Iced Coffee. The girl behind me order an identical drink. Not unusual at all. It's a simple, yet effective, order. However, after I paid and moved over to the bar where orders are picked up, the girl that was behind me, started hovering in front of me. I knew what she was doing. She kept mentioning to her Gay BBF how much time it seemed to take for her order to come up. Let me remind you that this is the GWU Starbucks at 8 AM. It's going to be busy. The one across from the Warner Theatre outside Metro Center is much worse and the the one outside the GW hosptical has a line out the door most mornings. Girlie-girl got off light. I've stood in those other lines. Many, many mornings.

She kept looking at me behind her and smiling. We both knew she would grab the first iced coffee down the pike. She clearly was raised by ravenous, caffeine-starved wolves who, in their turn had to be continually remined to wait in line and decided not to raise their daughter with such restrictions. Way to go wolves. Way the fuck to go.

Coffee-bandit also proceeded to pour part of her illicit brew into the trash to make way for cream. Where I a bigger bitch this is wear I would point out that despite the flowiness of her top, she was sporting some serious muffin-top. Crumble topping. I am not, however, a bigger bitch. She did have pretty cool glasses. Not cool enough to explain her behavior.

It's ok. She'll get hers. The universe has a way of straightening this sort of thing out.